


Ocean Dreams

by Anonymous



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Flash Forward, Higher Being Cordelia, M/M, Minor Angel/Cordelia Chase UST, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Angel is trapped in a coffin on the ocean floor, and Cordelia takes the opportunity to try to set him on a better path.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternal Scribe (Shadowcat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/gifts).



> From the minute I read your lyrical prompt, all I could think about was Angel being trapped beneath the ocean at the end of _Angel_ season three and whether or not I could somehow find a way to make that the launching point for a canon divergent OT3 get together. I hope this works for you!

_"I went in the ocean_  
 _I came looking for some love_  
 _All I found is that I found_  
 _I haven't found enough_  
 _I stand alone now I stand alone_  
 _But can you save me from myself_  
 _You are my temptation"_ \-- "Temptation" by VAST

Fear was a strange thing for a vampire. None of the proper signs were there for them. There was no pounding heartbeat; no labored breath; no aching, tired muscles after running from a threat. A vampire rarely panicked, rarely chose flight over fight, and almost always knew that they could overcome a threat.

And with all that in mind, Angel's current state was a hard thing to explain.

Everything was dark in an unending sea of black like a tunnel far beneath the surface of the earth where the sun had never once dared to shine; but sun or no sun, Angel could see everything clearly. This lightlessness meant nothing to vampiric eyes; he could see each and every inch of the dark, stony halls around him as he ran deeper and deeper into their depths.

It was his panic, not the eeriness of this setting, that bothered him as he raced aimlessly on.

There was something before him, something he wanted desperately to find, and when he searched for the name of it, he found it with ease. _Cordelia_. Cordelia was missing, and Angel needed to know where she had gone.

But there was also something behind him, something stalking him, something following him through this labyrinthine darkness at a run. Something in here thought itself a predator, and it sought to make a vampire its prey.

Angel ran onward, trying as he might to dismiss the loom of terror from his mind. What he needed now was determination, not fear; fear would not help him save Cordelia. Fear would only doom him--doom them both--and even if Angel was already lost to the depths--  
than before  
He nearly stumbled, something elusive but familiar flitting across his mind. What was going on, he wondered. What danger was Cordelia in? What danger was Angel himself in, for that matter; who was chasing him, and what reason could they have?

Angel couldn't remember, and he knew there was something very important lurking just out of reach in the shadows of his mind.

Somewhere ahead of him, there came a scream of terror. Cordelia's? He couldn't tell; it sounded feminine but eerily _vague_ , as if his mind was grasping for details that simply weren't there to grasp.

"Cordelia?" he called out, hoping desperately for an answer, and all that echoed back at him down the stony, ill-lit halls was the sound of a manic, sadistic laugh.

" _Cordelia_!" Instinct launched him forward even faster, undead muscles working harder than they had for some time. This was life or death; he knew it, though he didn't know how he knew it, and he knew that didn't matter. Cordelia was in danger, and so he had to save her, his own danger be damned.

There was another scream, and Angel rounded a corner chasing it--

\--and then he found himself in a open room, a unlit cavern of grey stone, and there Cordelia was on the other side of it, terror on her face as she pressed herself back against the wall with no space left to escape her tormentor.

" _NO!_ " The sound ripped out of Angel's lungs like a cannon blast, but it was already too late; an eerily familiar knife sank into the tender flesh of Cordelia's abdomen, and her assailant glanced back at Angel with a triumphantly sadistic grin.

Angel stood frozen, staring at the horrible leer on his son's face, and felt the weight of his grief buckle him once again.

Connor took a step forward, his smirk nearly a snarl now.

And a delicate hand fell to Angel's shoulder.

"It's okay," the person told him, her voice gentle and comforting and so very out of place in this deep darkness. "That wasn't what really happened."

Angel turned, and he glanced up at the woman behind him.

"Cordelia?"


	2. Chapter 2

She grinned at him, the warmth and affection in her smile a far cry from the look Connor had given him ( _or the look on her face as Connor had killed her_ ), and as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Angel's head whipped back around. But even as he was pulling himself upright to protect her from his son, he realized that Connor was gone; there was no one in the room but Angel and this new, second Cordelia.

"What... is going on?"

Something close to pity flickered across Cordelia's face, and Angel felt his heart sink just a bit further. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He paused, reaching back in his mind to grasp the frayed strings of his most recent memories. "Uh... The beach." Was that right? It couldn't be. "I was waiting for you at the beach. You... were you there? I don't remember you."

Another sad look, this one more apologetic. "I wasn't. Someone else showed up instead."

And that was the moment when it all crashed back down upon him. "Connor." He said his son's name like a swear. "Connor and Justine attacked me. And... and trapped me in something? They... oh god, what did they do?"

Cordelia sighed. "They locked you in a coffin, and they dropped you in the ocean to sink. You're there now, down beneath the waves where they think no one is ever going to find you."

 _Aren't they right?_ Angel wanted to ask, but not before: "Are you alright? Did they... are you...?"

Cordelia laughed as he gestured helplessly at her. "What, like a ghost? Of course not. Connor didn't come anywhere near me, and I don't think he would've. I'm not the one he's mad at, at the very least."

"But why is--?" He paused, threw his hands up, and shook his head. "No, nevermind; we can deal with that later. So you're alright, then? Why didn't you show up at the beach? Did he stop you?"

"No, Angel." Unspoken apology was still etched into her every feature, and Angel feared it meant something awful for him. "He didn't stop me. Hell, I wish I'd been there to stop him. But I wasn't there because... because I had a different job to do. A... calling. A higher, uh, purpose."

That statement, awkwardly made as it was, hung in the air between them for a moment before Angel managed to put his confusion into words. "A higher purpose?" he repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember Skip?"

"The guy that was guarding Billy Blim?"

"If you can call him a guy, sure. And he was also the one who made me a part-demon so that I didn't have to give up the visions or, you know, die or anything." She sighed again, this one even more heavy than the last. "And the night Connor attacked you, I saw him again."

"What happened?" Angel asked. "It was enough, right? The visions weren't still hurting you, were they? You never said--"

"No, they weren't, I promise. It wasn't like that. Skip stopped me on the way to the beach, and he offered me a job. Not a better job--working with you was always the best thing I could've asked for--but a bigger job. A more important job."

"What could be more important than what we do? Than what we _need your visions_ to do?"

"I'm a higher being now, Angel. That's what Skip offered me. He made a part-demon as a test run, and that night, he offered me the full gig."

Angel stared, his mind struggling to keep up with what he had just been told. "You're a higher being?" he repeated, dumbfounded. "Like, one of the powers? Or an Oracle or something?"

"Not exactly. It's kind of like an angel, I guess? I watch over people--the world, really--and try influence what I can. I can't, you know, actually control anything; I can't change what's going to happen by myself. But I can influence people like the powers do. When push comes to shove, I can try to nudge a hero in the right direction." She reached out toward him, and her slim fingers curled against his own. "That's what I'm doing now."

Angel laughed. "And here I was hoping you were planning to rescue me. No offense, Cordelia, but I don't think a nudge is going to be enough to get me out of the water."

"Don't underestimate me!" she snapped, but she said it with a smile. "But, no, I'm not here to get you out of the ocean. I'm here to make sure that once you do get back on dry land, you don't racing off down the wrong path. The road to Hell being paved with good intentions and all that."

Angel was silent for a long moment, and Cordelia seemed to wait for him with bated breath. Time to stop dodging the elephant. "Alright. I'll listen. I don't know what to think yet about any of this; for all I know, maybe I'm just having an insane starvation dream right now, and you're not really here at all. But I have to know, and if you're serious about all this, it sounds like I might not get another chance to ask: Did I misunderstand something? Why did you ask me to go to the beach that night? I thought..."

Cordelia's eyelids fluttered shut, and she nodded solemnly. When she looked at him again, he could see her eyes glinting tearfully. "I know what you thought. You didn't misunderstand anything." She pulled her hand away from his grasp, and whatever hope he might've had left with it. "I had feelings for you. _Have_ feelings for you. There was something between us, at least on my end. But I couldn't pass this opportunity up. I was doing good with the visions, more good than I ever thought was possible, but now I can do even more. Forever." She looked away for a moment, visibly blinking away what was left of her tears. "I understand now, Angel, that you and I weren't meant to be. Even if I changed my mind right now and went back to being a human, things would never go back to being the way they were. I can't _really_ see the future, but I can see snapshots of possible futures. I don't get all the context, but I get glimpses into what will happen if certain paths are taken. And if I were to go back to Earth now, all that would happen is heartbreak."

She said the words with such reluctant finality that Angel couldn't help but believe her. But his curiosity burned. "What would happen?"

"Death, though I won't tell you whose. Just know that it's a path neither of us would want to see."

"And the alternative--the one without you--is better? You know that for sure?"

"I can't know anything for sure. It doesn't all depend on me. There's not just one possible path ahead of you, Angel." She smiled. "But I'm here to try to point you in what I think is the right direction. Because I've found my calling now, and I want to make sure you do, too."

Angel scoffed. This was all far, far too much; he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "I'm going to have a hard time fulfilling any destiny at the bottom of the ocean."

Now she grinned outright, her eyes glittering. "Actually, I think your destiny is right around the corner. Fred and Gunn called in the cavalry."


	3. Chapter 3

"What? Who?"

There was such amusement in Cordelia's eyes that it was almost ominous. "Well, let's see. Who in the world might have a really good reason to come running to L.A. when she gets the call that you (and to a lesser extent, I) are missing?"

When the answer hit him, Angel couldn't believe it. "Buffy?"

"That's the one. Slayer to the rescue, as usual. Not that she usually does her rescuing outside of little ol' Sunnydale, but you have a way with her, don't you?"

Did he? Was there still so much between himself and Buffy that she would come running as soon as she found out about his disappearance. It'd been months since he'd seen her last, and it'd been months before that. Their last meeting had been intensely emotional, sure, but that was in no small part because Buffy had been _resurrected_ ; he had thought at the time--hell, he'd _said_ at the time--that their relationship still wasn't possible, and that their emotions were more intense relief than anything else... but was that true? He knew Buffy still loved him (or he hoped she did, at least, considering how much he still loved her), but he thought for sure that by now she would've moved on once again. Hadn't she found another Riley yet? A good, _human_ man to distract her from the vampire that stole her heart?

(And if she hadn't... god, what would she think of his feelings for Cordelia? Or of Connor's very _existence_ , for that matter?)

"I... guess."

"Modesty's cute on you, but give yourself some credit. We all know you'd still be with her if it wasn't for the whole 'perfect happiness' thing, and I'm sure she knows it most of all. Not that's been sitting around moping about you this past year or anything. She's been moping a lot, sure, but I would be, too, if I'd been through what she's been through."

Angel hesitated. That was bait, he realized; Cordelia was hinting at something more than just typical Sunnydale shenanigans, and for some reason, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what she was getting at. On the other hand... "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I mean, we had a crazy year too--vampire-on-vampire babies, betrayals, time-traveling vampire hunters, etcetera, etcetera--but Buffy's was pretty nuts, too. Kind of comes with the territory when you've been resurrected, I guess... or, you know, when you're the Slayer in general."

"Cordelia," Angel said, his voice more insistent now, "what happened to Buffy?"

She paused for a moment, as if now that she had Angel on the hook, she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to reel him in. "Where to start? How about how Willow, Little Miss Big Bad Witch, decided to bring her back to life? It doesn't sound like a big deal, and I know you already know about it, but did Buffy tell you what it was like in that 'hell dimension' she was so unhelpfully vague about?"

Angel narrowed his eyes skeptically, thinking back to the conversations they'd had when they'd last seen one another. Buffy _had_ mentioned sacrificing herself to a portal that lead to a bunch of other dimensions, yes, and she had certainly implied that what she'd gone through had been bad, but... She hadn't given him a single detail, had she? And he certainly hadn't pushed; that would just be cruel.

"Of course not. There was only one person she told the truth to willingly, and we'll get to _that_ mess later. But Angel, Buffy wasn't in a Hell dimension. Sacrificing herself to close that portal didn't take her to any other dimensions. It wasn't like you with Acathla or Fred and me with Pylea. Buffy died--genuinely _died_ \--and she went to heaven. Or _a_ Heaven; I'm still not quite sure how it works."

Angel shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. If she was in heaven that whole time, why was she so...?"

"Depressed?" Cordelia finished for him. "It wasn't a Hell dimension that did that to her. It wasn't even dying. She was already cracking before that Hell-bitch ever put a single hand on Dawn. Slayers die young, Angel; the ones that have made it as far as Buffy has can be counted on one hand. That job wrecks you. The weight of the world--the weight of the _Hellmouth_ \--was on her shoulders in a way the rest of us can't truly understand. She wants to be a normal girl, and she can't, and it's getting harder to deal with now that all her friends are grown-ups with normal, human lives. Or, you know, as close to that as the Scoobies can get. I mean, hell, Giles _left_."

" _Giles_ left?"

"Her mom died, _she_ died, Giles left, and... well, Buffy's been a rocky road for a while now. The Scoobies' lives don't revolve around her the way they did in high school. They're not always there for her; they don't fit into her world quite the way they did before, and... and she needs people who do."

"So, what are you saying?" Angel demanded. "She's coming to L.A. to search for me because she think she'll fit in here better than Sunnydale?"

"No. She's coming to L.A. to search for you because Fred and Gunn asked for help, and she jumped at the opportunity. She wants a change of pace, because frankly, Sunnydale kind of sucks now. Giles is gone, Willow is gone, Anya doesn't talk to any of them anymore, Tara is _dead_ (and a part of Buffy blames herself)... it's kind of a mess. Working with Fred and Gunn is a nice change of pace for her, and she gets to see you again, even better."

"She's already here, then? Working with them?"

"She is." Now Cordelia seemed to be more hesitant, as if she was preparing herself for how Angel would react to whatever it was she was about to say. "And Xander came with her. And Dawn. And, uh... Spike."

"Spike," Angel repeated flatly. "He's _still_ hanging around in Sunnydale? I thought for sure that Drusilla would've taken him back by now."

Cordelia's brows lifted. "Wow, she really didn't tell you anything, did she? Angel, Spike's in love with Buffy."

The laughter that burst out of him at that point could only have been called a guffaw. " _Spike_ ," he repeated, laughing all the while, "thinks he loves her? That's a good one. You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

"That idiot. I should've known he'd take his Slayer thing too far one--" His brow furrowed at the look on Cordelia's face. "What?"

"Angel, they were together."

Time, such as it was down in this utter pit, froze. " _What_?"

"Buffy and Spike. They've been sleeping together since she came back from the dead. Or they were, for a while. A lot."

"He--they--they're _together_? That doesn't make any sense! They don't--I mean--you're joking, right?"

"Don't get all hysterical on me, okay, big guy? I'm just telling it like it is."

"You must've gotten something wrong."

Cordelia laughed. "Wrong? You're serious? Look, I might not be able to predict the future with any kind of certainty, but I can see the past just fine."

"But it doesn't make any sense. What the hell would Buffy see in _Spike_?"

"Darkness," Cordelia said, and there was such weight to her answer that Angel felt himself sag beneath it. "Buffy was different when she came back. Not physically, but... she'd been through a lot. Spike was there for her when no one else was. He was there for her in a way that no one else was."

"But I could've--"

"No, Angel, you definitely couldn't have. Perfect happiness aside, you've dealing with Connor--and Darla before that! You didn't have the time Buffy would've needed you to give her. Spike did."

"So, what?" Angel demanded. Outrage was piquing inside him at the sheer thought of it all; in _what way_ was Spike the one who could give Buffy what she needed? "They showed up to rescue me and then rub their happiness in my face. Because that definitely sounds like Spike, I must admit."

Now Cordelia looked _very_ hesitant to go on. "No, actually. They're not together anymore. For now, anyway. They, uh... well, some stuff went down between them."

"Stuff. What does that mean?"

"You know, stuff. Bad stuff. ...really bad stuff." Angel waited for a moment, then gestured impatiently. Cordelia sighed, rolling her eyes as she threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "Okay, look. Buffy wasn't in a good place. She didn't have any respect for Spike or for herself because she didn't want to need him the way she did, and Spike... well, he didn't have a soul. He's a bad guy, Angel; you know that. And he... he crossed a line. A big one."

If Angel had blood in his veins, it would've been pounding with anticipation. "What did he do, Cordelia?"

She closed her eyes, as if bracing herself for a blow. "He tried to rape her."

Anger surged through Angel's mind so suddenly that he was abruptly reminded of the true meaning of the phrase "seeing red". For a single, not-so-fleeting instant, he felt almost possessed; there was nothing in him save for the need to rage, avenge, and _hurt_. He should've staked Spike years ago; why did he ever--?

"Wait, wait," Cordelia interrupted. "Before you swear blood vengeance or anything like that, there's something else you need to know."

"What more could I possible need to know? I don't need to know any more to be sure that as soon I get out of the damn ocean, I'm going to kill him!"

Cordelia gave him a meek little half-grin, like she was preemptively apologizing for whatever she was about to say.

"He has a soul now, Angel. Spike has a soul."


	4. Chapter 4

For a moment, Angel didn't know what to say. The thought of Spike having a soul--of Spike somehow being like he was--came as such a shock that he couldn't wrap his mind around it. And then, just as immediately as the shock had come, he dismissed it.

Angel scoffed derisively, far too furious to consider whether or not Cordelia actually deserved the tone. "Is that supposed to make a difference? Am I supposed to forgive him for what he did to her, just because he has a soul now? And how the hell did he get a soul in the first place? Let me guess; Willow cursed him?"

Cordelia shook her head solemnly. "No. Definitely not. Willow was not in any condition to be paying attention to Buffy and Spike's non-relationship. He didn't get cursed with his soul, Angel. He sought it out. As penance."

"What?" That didn't make any sense. Spike, of all people, seeking penance?

"Yeah, I know. It sound unbelievable, right? But I swear, that guy realized what he'd done, realized why he'd done it, and immediately left to go fix it. He earned himself a soul to make sure that he couldn't hurt her like that again--and to make himself a man she might actually be able to love someday, the way she loved you."

Angel shook his head. He simply refused to believe this. It didn't even sound like Spike; the man he knew was vicious and cruel and loved to play with his toys before he ate them. That's all it was; that's all it could've been between Spike and Buffy. Buffy was lonely, and he took advantage of her, all the while waiting for the day he would kill his third Slayer.

"I know what you're thinking, Angel, but I swear it wasn't like that. Sure, Spike definitely did want to kill Buffy, but that was years ago, and if you'll recall correctly, you wanted to kill her back then, too. Spike hasn't wanted her dead--not really--for years now, and he's been in love with her since before he even knew. I'd tell you to ask Drusilla, if I thought you actually could."

"What's Drusilla got to do with anything?"

"You remember when you set her on fire? A year and a half ago? Yeah. Afterward, she went to Sunnydale; she wanted to bring Spike back to L.A. But he sent her packing; by then, even he knew that he was head over heels for Buffy. Hell, the whole reason Drusilla left him in the first place was that she knew it was going to happen sooner or later. A bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy there, sure, but that's what happens when you're a crazy psychic vampire."

"Cordelia, what---?" Angel shook his head again. "What are you trying to do? Are you trying to say that Spike...? What are you trying to say?"

"Look, Angel, I'm just saying that Spike isn't the guy you remember. He's not the vicious vampire you used to know. Even without a soul, he had enough remorse for what he tried to do to her that he actually decided to live like you do--with all the guilt and self-hatred and... and Byronic heroism that comes with being a vampire with a soul."

Even in the midst of this nonsense, Angel couldn't help but quirk a brow at that. "Byronic heroism?"

She shrugged. "I know a thing or two, and you're a brooding antihero if there ever was one. Except, you know, now there's two."

"Spike is _nothing_ like me."

"Except for being a vampire with a soul who's had a fairly twisted relationship with the Slayer."

"My relationship with Buffy--"

"Was as much of a mess as Spike's was. Or do you not remember Angelus? Miss Calendar sure does."

His rage flexed again, like a muscle long neglected, and yet Cordelia looked utterly unimpressed with the furious expression on his face. "Oh, don't give me that. I'm not the bad guy here. I'm just playing vampire's advocate."

"No, you're _crazy_. Spike is all wrong for Buffy, in each and every single way. Even without the _utterly unforgivable_ thing that you just told me he tried to do to her, they don't... They're not _right_!"

Cordelia folded her arms over her chest, and everything about her posture screamed that she wasn't about to give up this fight. "Oh, who is these days? Groo and I weren't right for each other, but we were great while we lasted. And besides, I'm not trying to say that Spike and Buffy are some kind of dream duo. I don't think they're some kind of perfect match anyway."

"Okay, good!" Angel exclaimed. "Finally, we're on the same page. They're not a perfect match. In fact, they're _very far_ from a perfect match."

"Right!" Cordelia said, and even Angel could tell that there was something disingenuous in her enthusiasm. "That's why they need you."


	5. Chapter 5

Angel's mind whirled, trying to process the thought that Cordelia had just dropped into his lap. What the hell was that supposed to mean, _that's why they need you_? Did she think he was actually going to support the idea of Buffy getting together with Spike? He wouldn't have helped the two of them get together even before he knew about the apparent attempted rape in their history; now that he knew about it, there wasn't a chance in any level of Hell that he was going to encourage Buffy to ever let Spike anywhere near her ever again.

"What the hell does that mean?" he finally managed to choke out, and Cordelia didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of herself.

"What do you think it means?"

Any and all options that sprang to mind were equally horrifying. "Well, it sounds like you think I'm going to help them get together or--or be their relationship coach or something."

" _Or_...?"

There was, of course, a third option; but it was one that Angel had left very purposefully unspoken. It was simply too horrifying to put into words. "Or nothing."

"Angel."

"Look, Cordelia, I don't know what kind of twisted futures you've been spying on, but I'm not interested in whatever you're selling me. In case it's not obvious: I don't want any kind of relationship with Spike. I don't think I can imagine anything more horrifying."

To his utter shock, Cordelia _laughed._ "C'mon, Angel. Whirlwind, anyone? You're telling me that you vampires--all four of you--weren't together like that. At least occasionally?"

"I didn't have a soul then!"

"So?" Angel couldn't believe his ears. "You had a soul when you slept with Darla, didn't you? And just in case you forgot, Spike has a soul now, too." She reached out toward him again, and she pulled each of his hands into her grasp. Unlike before, when had felt a hint of something romantic, even _sexual_ them, there was now nothing to her touch but the kind of deep, platonic love that he was so accustomed to. "And I think it's a good idea. No, seriously, listen to me! It's a good solution to a few problems. The whole 'perfect happiness' thing, for starters? I mean, really, who's going to be perfectly happy with Spike around?"

In any other situation, Angel might have laughed. Instead, he could feel horror growing in him like a heartworm, wriggling somewhere deep inside him and draining him of something he simply couldn't live without. "Have you lost your mind?"

Cordelia raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, and Angel felt perhaps a stronger rush of relief than was warranted. "Okay, fine. That's fair enough." Then, catching sight of the look on her face, Angel's relief flagged just a bit. "But I want to show you something, okay?"

Somehow, no, he didn't think that it was going to be _okay_. "Show me what, exactly?"

Cordelia reached out, her fingertips brushing against his temple. "Possibilities."

Everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Angel sighed heavily. "You saw them, then?" came a familiar, accented voice from somewhere behind him. With it came the scent of cigarettes and booze, and with all those signs together, there was no one else it could've been but Spike.

"Of course I saw them," Angel answered unhappily, though he wasn't entirely sure why he was indulging Spike's incessant need to talk in the first place. It never lead to anything good.

"Cute couple."

Angel glanced skeptically at the other vampire. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Spike shrugged, reaching into the pocket of his ridiculous leather coat and pulling out a box of smokes. "Buffy and the Slayer spawn. Makes sense, I suppose. Slayer, Slayer's son. Figures."

"Did you want something, or...?"

Spike feigned offended confusion as he lit his cigarette. "Isn't it enough to crave your company? At least someone wants to spend time with you."

It was a low blow. Angel had hoped that his relationship with Buffy might somehow resurface now that he was back in Sunnydale for a while, but thing definitely didn't seem to be working out that way. As far as he could tell, Buffy had lost interest in both of her vampire-with-a-soul ex-lovers; Angel and Spike had each done her different degrees of wrong, and she seemed to have completely moved on from anything that they had to offer her.

"Aw, I'm touched," Angel said, his voice as drippingly sarcastic as Spike deserved, but there was no true malice in it. He just didn't care enough right now; as much as he hated it, he really was almost sulking after seeing Buffy leave for her date.

"Fine, then," Spike said, and it was almost amusing how he managed to make such a show of taking a single drag. "I won't tell you what I know."

Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. "What do you know, Spike? I didn't think you knew anything, frankly."

"Oh, you can do much better than that. But I know why Buffy's noble Robin Hood doesn't like me."

"Did you by any chance let him hear you call him Robin Hood?"

Spike chuckled. "It's a bit more serious than that, mate."

Angel sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll bite. Why doesn't he like you, aside from, you know, everything about you?"

"Hardy har. Robin _Wood_ , son of a Slayer? You know which Slayer, don't you?" Angel shook his head. "Ever heard of Nikki Wood?"

"Can't say I have."

"Well, she was tough shit in her day. Hot as hell and could fight as well as she dressed." Angel raised a brow; since when did Spike care about fashion? "And I should know, because I've been wearing her coat since the late seventies. She was the second Slayer I killed."

Angel turned to face him, disgusted. "Buffy is on a date with the son of the Slayer you killed? And we're just standing here talking about it like it's no big deal?"

Spike shrugged. "Is a big deal? It's the past. Happened before she was born. Buffy, I mean. And what she doesn't know can't hurt her."

"Does he know, though?"

Spike scoffed. "Of course he does. I said it's why he hates me. He wouldn't hate me if he didn't know."

"Are you sure?"

Angel couldn't recall ever seeing Spike roll his eyes quite so hard. "Of course I'm sure."

"Then I guess you better watch out." Spike quirked a scarred brow, visibly unimpressed. "She already has a good enough reason to hate you. If she finds out that you killed her boyfriend's mother--and a Slayer, at that--she might decide you're not worth a shot at redemption after all."

That wiped every hint of a smirk off Spike's face, and all the arrogance and mirth was washed away by a wave of visible discomfort.

 _Good_. If Angel had to be unhappy, it only seemed fair that Spike did, too.

* * *

"Buffy!"

Angel hid beneath the blanket like a child hiding from the monsters he imagined lurking in the dark--except that he had seen the monsters, thousands upon thousands of them, and he just helped wipe their blight off the face of the Earth.

The blanket around him smelled familiar. It alcohol and smoke and leather, and there was hint, too, of something more personal; it wasn't a scent he could put a word to, though perhaps it was one that held a name.

(Right now, it wasn't a name he was sure he wanted to speak.)

"Angel," Buffy said, and her voice sounded more tired now than he had ever heard it before.

"You should rest," he told her quietly as she sat down on the school bus seat beside him and curled up next to the scratchy fabric protecting him from the sun. "At least until it's your turn to drive."

"Oh, uh-uh," she said, ninety-percent sass and ten-percent exhaustion. "I'm not driving this thing. We've got an army now. The rookie can take the wheel; it's not the general's job to drive."

"Is that what you are now?" he asked with a little smile. (It felt like the first he'd worn in a long time.) "A Slayer general?"

She shrugged. "Who knows. It's gonna be a brave new world out there."

"Yeah," he said quietly, and for a few minutes, they fell into silence.

Neither of them knew what was going to happen now. They hadn't really thought they'd get this far. The sheer thought of closing a Hellmouth seemed absurd, and the notion that they'd actually done it seemed downright insane. But they _had_ , and Angel couldn't but feel that the price they'd paid was fair enough.

He cast an uncertain glance at Buffy. That familiar scent on the blanket, the one he was loathe to put into words, was all over her, too, and it had been since last night. He didn't dare ask what had happened; he simply didn't want to know the answer. Anything might've gone down between Spike and Buffy on the night before they both planned to die, and since Angel hadn't been included ( _not that he wanted to be!_ ), it was none of his business at all. If Buffy wanted to talk about it, fair enough; otherwise, he planned to keep his mouth shut.

But... "Are you okay?" he asked her gently, his hand slipping out from beneath the blanket to brave the sunlight. His fingers laced between her own, and she gave him a little squeeze as he did.

They both knew why he was asking; everyone on the bus knew what reason Buffy had to be devastated right now. "Yeah," she said, though Angel wasn't at all sure he believed her. "I'm alright. He saved us all. We meant to fight the Turok-Han, but he actually managed to close the Hellmouth. The First Evil's plan failed, and it's mostly because of him."

"It could've been me, wearing that amulet. It should've been me. Lilah came all the way here from L.A. to give it to me."

Buffy glanced up at him, an inscrutable look in her eyes. "Yes, but that why I wouldn't have wanted you to use it in the first place. I don't know those people like you to, Angel, but I know evil when I see it. And Wolfram and Hart wouldn't have given you that amulet without there being some serious strings attached. Who knows if it would've even worked right if you'd worn it. They might've been trying to bind your soul to the First Evil or something crazy."

"And what if that had happened to Spike?"

She was silent for a moment, pearly teeth worrying her desert-chapped lips. "It was a risk I was willing to take. It was a risk _he_ was willing to take. And it worked out. He's a hero. We all are."

That, Angel supposed, would have to be good enough.

Angel was alive, Angel was with Buffy, and Angel was perfectly willing to overlook his guilt about letting Spike be the one to sacrifice himself for their Pyrrhic victory.

* * *

"This had better be worth it," Angel grumbled.

"It will be," Fred assured him, but her eyes were on the ghost in front of her. "Trust me, Angel, I wouldn't have let us all get drawn back into Wolfram and Hart's web if I wasn't sure I could do this."

"That's not what I meant."

From her place beside Fred, Buffy suddenly glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. "What did you mean, then?"

_That Spike of all people isn't worth playing into Wolfram and Hart's plans?_

But even as he thought it, he couldn't bring himself to put the sentiment to words; his relationship with Buffy had been just on the right side of nonexistent since the Hellmouth closed, and that the specter looming over their potential happiness now stood right in front of them, waiting to be restored to flesh, didn't exactly count as a plus.

"Let's just get this over with."

He'd been dealing with Spike for weeks now, of course, and it had been nothing short of a nightmare to see the bleach-blonde monster slowly worm his way back into Buffy's good graces. So what if he'd sacrificed himself to close the Hellmouth? It wasn't like that made up for all the evil he'd done over the years; it didn't erase any of the torture or murders ( _or rapes_ , Angel thinks viciously), didn't ease the victim's pain, didn't bring any single person back to life or return any childe its soul.

It didn't make Spike good, and it didn't mean he deserved Buffy.

But here Buffy was, giving Spike those gorgeous, loving doe-eyes that Angel hasn't seen since ( _the day Spike died_ ) she was a seventeen-year-old girl who had no idea what kind of monster she was about to unleash. And dear God does he despise Spike for that; in no way does he deserve to have _anyone_ give him such an adoring, hopeful look.

"Alright," Fred's voice broke the tension. "It's all ready. If this works like it's supposed to, you should be corporeal again in three... two... one!"

If any of them had been expecting a flash of light or clap of thunder, they were disappointed. Angel watched Spike's shoulders sag, and Buffy very slightly shifted, letting out the tiniest of disappointed breaths.

"Well?" Fred asked after a moment. "Try to pick something up."

Spike's frustration was clear on his face, but Angel was surprised to see him restraining himself; even after a year, it was still a shock to remember just how different Spike-with-a-soul was from Spike-without. "I don't feel any different," Spike said dismissively, but he reached out toward the nearest lab table nonetheless. His fingers stretched out toward a beaker filled with clear liquid--

\--and he picked it up.

The immediate joy that overtook Spike's usually detached expression was infectious. He dropped the beaker back down onto the table, its contents slashing all across the surface ( _here's hoping that was water_ ) as the glass broke, and he rushed forward to grab Fred. She looked as shocked as anyone to by the hug, and the kiss pressed with a flourish against her forehead came as an even bigger surprise.

And then, just as quickly, Spike pulled away from the woman who'd restored him, and his attention turned to Buffy. He paused for a moment ( _for dramatic effect, no doubt_ ), a single beat of tension stretch out between himself and the Slayer, and then Buffy all but threw herself forward, and Angel found himself watching the two blondes kiss.

He'd seen that often enough during those hectic days leading up to the end of the Hellmouth that it didn't bother him anymore. Buffy was an adult, and she could kiss who she wanted; so what if she was clearly making the worst decision possible? But right now, caught up in the rush of emotion ( _why was he so relieved?_ ), Angel didn't feel even the slightest bit of revulsion, regret, or even jealousy. He just watched them kiss.

And then, when Buffy finally drew back from Spike and the vampire put on that little come-hither smirk that used to piss Angelus off so much, Angel stepped forward, brushed right past Buffy Summers, and pressed his lips to Spike's.

* * *

"Do you want me to follow them?"

Angel blinked, startled by the sudden sound of his son's voice. "What?"

"Do you want me to follow them?" Connor repeated. "Make sure he is who he says he is?"

"Why would I want you to do that?"

To his surprise, Connor's shoulders sagged just slightly, like he was trying desperately to mask his disappointment. "Sorry. I... probably misunderstood."

Now, Angel was totally lost. "Misunderstood what?"

"I was under the impression that it was the father's job to interrogate and attempt to drive off his daughter's male suitors. And since Dawn has no father, I assumed that meant it was her brother's job."

What in the _world_. "She doesn't have a brother, either, Connor."

"Well, no," the boy (the man, really, given that he was physically about twenty at this point, even if he had been born less than five years ago) said with a shrug, "but our family dynamic is confusing and complex. Buffy is more or less her mother at this point, which I suppose could make you something of a father to her. That makes me her brother."

"What?"

From his place on the couch, Spike lazily raised a hand. "Where do I fit into all this?"

"I'm not sure. Human families don't normally have two fathers... but we aren't even a human family. Do you consider yourself her father?"

Spike snorted. "If anyone is the bit's big brother, it's me."

Connor tilted his head in that baffled-dog gesture that was less and less common these days, and Angel was surprised by the warm rush of affection it drew. But he shouldn't have been; he knew what it was. He was just so surprised, so utterly shocked that this was even possible; it all seemed so impossible, from the very idea of Angel having a child at all to the notion that after everything they'd been through, he and Connor could actually be part of a happy family.

That Buffy, Dawn, and even _Spike_ had been a part of making that a reality was icing on the cake of disbelief.

"What are you all talking about?"

Dawn's accusatory voice cut through Angel's thoughts, and Angel turned to see her and Buffy standing in the doorway just as Connor said, "You and your date, and which of us should be the one to intimidate him tonight."

The young woman ( _God, when had she gotten so grown up?_ ) narrowed her eyes, making the exact same you're-dead expression that Angel and Spike had each seen on Buffy's face so many times in the past few years. "If anyone's going to intimidate him, it's going to be me. So lay off, _Destroyer_."

Only one of the Summers women could make a title like "the Destroyer" sound so ridiculous, and Connor looked rightfully disappointed. "I just wanted to help."

"You're in the wrong era, sonny boy," Spike added, distinctly _un_ helpfully. "In the twenty-first century, women rarely want that kind of help. I mean, hell, I think most of 'em are Slayers at this point."

"Ha _ha_." Buffy rolled her eyes, and gave Dawn a gentle push away from the door. "Now, you have a date to get to. And you--" She turned those fierce green eyes on Connor. "--need to find somewhere else to be. It's my date night, too, thank you very much. So clear out."

Connor shrugged, utterly unbothered by the less-than-polite dismissal. "Fine. I'm sure I can find a demon to occupy me for a few hours. Will that be long enough for the three of you to--"

"Oh my _God!_ " Dawn exclaimed, covering her ears as she started rushing toward the door. "Ew!"

The front door to their apartment slammed shut behind her, and Spike snickered. "You too," Buffy said, nodding at Connor as she pointed toward the door. "See you tomorrow."

Connor was smiling slightly, clearly amused by Dawn's response. (Perhaps he was more like a brother to her than Angel had realized.) "Alright. Goodnight, Dad."

"Don't stay out too late," Angel called as Connor headed out the door. There was little point to it, of course; Connor hardly ever slept, and he would almost certainly be gone all night. It wasn't like Angel minded, anyway.

The door to the apartment swung shut again with a dull thud, and Angel turned to Buffy once more. "Finally," she said, giving him a soft little smile as he met her eyes, "alone."

Without another word, she stalked over to the couch and flopped down beside Spike. The smaller vampire shifted to accommodate her, their bodies meshing like puzzle pieces as they turned their attention toward the TV. Angel watched them for a moment, their attention fully absorbed by whatever trash Spike had turned on tonight.

It was so strange, this little life he'd managed to build for himself. In all those years he'd spent lost and alone after he'd gained his soul, Angel could never have imagined that any of this--his friends, Connor, the odd little romance going on between Spike, Buffy, and himself--was possible.

And he wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

Angel staggered as he came back to himself. "What the _hell_ was that?" he demanded. 

"Just what I told you," Cordelia said softly. "A possibility or two... or three. Branches of, you know, fate or whatever. Paths your life could take, if you want it to."

"But..." He didn't even know how to put it into words. "You just showed me... You..." The feeling of contentment, of _belonging_ was still fresh in his mind, warming his never-beating heart, and Angel didn't have the slightest idea of what to do about it.

"I showed you an option. Nothing more, nothing less. You don't have to chase that. It's okay if it's not what you want. But I think it is. I think it's your best bet, Angel. I really do."

"But _Spike!_ "

"But _Connor_. And Buffy. And yeah, Spike, too. You felt it, didn't you? How happy you would be?"

He looked away from her, unable and unwilling to meet her eyes while he lied. "I didn't feel a thing."

"Angel," Cordelia said softly, and her palm gently came to rest upon his arm, "you're not fooling anyone; I know what you felt. Higher being, remember? Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just wanted to show you what your options were."

" _That_ was not an option!"

Cordelia shrugged, and her warm hand fell away from his skin. "Alright, fine. I'm not going to push you. I just wanted you to know." She took a step back, and Angel was overcome by the sudden and terrifying realization that she was leaving him. "And Angel? Whatever you do, just do me one thing, okay? Don't waste your life."

"I would never--"

* * *

Angel blinked his eyes, trying to shut out the sudden light. What the hell was shining in his eyes? Was Cordelia doing that? It couldn't be something real; nothing at the bottom of the ocean would be able to blind him like that.

"Careful." A man's voice. Familiar, but off somehow. "He's been down there for weeks. Who know what his mental state is like."

"He's _hungry_ ," came an even more familiar voice, a snide one with an accent that made the demon in him take note. "You might wanna back up."

The light moved away from Angel's eyes, and blurry figures came into view. Two men nearby, two women behind them, two more men further back. Who were all these people? Did he know them?

And dear _God_ , he needed to eat.

Angel struggled to sit up, and the brunette man nearest to him shied back. There was something in his hands, something shiny and metal that he was pointing in Angel's direction, but Angel paid it no mind. His gaze focused on the blonde man still beside him, and though his eyes still weren't working quite right, his sense of smell had no such qualms.

"Spike?" he asked, dumbfounded. He sniffed the air again. " _Buffy_?"

"We're here," Buffy's words came to him like a voice from above, and Angel felt his heart swell with that same warm affection from his dreams.

Without a single word, Spike moved forward, carefully helping Angel lift himself out of the coffin. Buffy threw herself into Angel's arms ( _just as she'd done with Spike_ , Angel thought) (except no, that never happened) with no thought at all toward the danger. Angel bowed his head and breathed her scent in deep, his mind flooding with the memory of when he'd last fed upon her to save his life.

And then Spike's hand pushed between them, the smaller vampire's negligible bulk separating them with firm insistence. "Careful, he's all bite and no bark right now."

Angel laughed, more hysterical than anything else, and let his weight sag against Spike's body. Cordelia's words echoed in the back of his mind.

_They need you._

Maybe it was something to think about after all.


End file.
